Visigothic_The Barbarians Of Midgard

Home > Other > Visigothic_The Barbarians Of Midgard > Page 16
Visigothic_The Barbarians Of Midgard Page 16

by Jay P Newcomb


  Meanwhile, back in Kul-Oba, located high in the Pass of Tihuta, in the Mountains of Dakkia, Hister was growing concerned. A dark cloud sat over the fortress of doom. A rainy mist was falling and some of the conical shaped towers were shrouded in fog. The Dark Wizard continued to keep the unfortunate Princess Heike, a beautiful young woman from amongst the Gutthiuda Thralls, and the rumour was that Hister had turned her parents into trees. She was four or so months from giving birth to Hister’s Child and was a very sad person because of her situation. She was all the more determined to learn black magic that she might turn it against her demonic over-lord. Heike’s bitterness ran so deep that she blamed her own people’s weakness for becoming Thralls and not fighting, or at least escaping to the Rebel Alliance. Ever since learning of her pregnancy, she had feigned love and devotion for Hister and he was mistakenly growing to trust her. He was captivated by her physical charms and Heike was his weakness. But, as yet, no-one knew this except Hister’s mother Svetlana, Matriarch of the Carpathian Cave Witches, who wore an outlandish black dress with a collar protruding backwards like a giant clam shell, and whose head was shaved bald and caked with white make-up. Her eyes were painted black, as were her lips, and on her forehead was painted a red dot. Hister had an evil sister as well, the Witch of Myrkvidr, Angrboda and together these formed a trinity of evil.

  Hister, with the Huggin Argob, son of King Svart of Hrefnawudu, Ravenswood, on his shoulder, walked down the long dark corridors of Kul-Oba, with Heike at his side, and she was wearing a long black dress. “Yes, Heike, my dear, I am building something now that will increase my power beyond all Wizards of Midgard. A little design handed down to me from the land of Shinar, land of my ancestor Nimrod. Even now the workers are cutting the stones and laying the foundations. Atop this, within a temple that I will call the capstone, I will place the All Seeing Eye.” His laughter was long and cackle-like and echoed down the torch and lamp lit corridor.

  Throostra the Gnome approached from up ahead and looked at Heike with snarky jealously. Deep in her mind, Heike plotted how she might rid Kul-Oba of him.

  “Ah, my young apprentice, what news do you have on today’s building process?”

  “By your command, my Master,” replied Throostra, “Cutting of the stones by the Thralls in the quarry continues on schedule. However, at the building location we have encountered problems in the construction of the foundation. The bedrock is fissured and since it is on the mountain across the ravine south of this fortress, the task is made all the more difficult, Master.”

  Hister replied forcefully, “Then increase the workforce building the foundation for the Black Ziggurat. Fill the fissures with cement. Send word to King Idanthrsus, that when the Rebel Alliance is crushed, he is to send the upstart Sigurd and his witch Queen, if taken alive, to Kul-Oba and his people as well. If they are taken alive, I want them brought here in good enough condition to torture! Those tribes will be enslaved as workers to build the Black Ziggurat! On second thoughts, Throostra, I want the Scythians to crucify Sigurd and Osrik both, along with Volsung, Gedron, young Sigmund, as well as Snaevar. But I want the Queen taken alive so that she may bear her child here. We know it shall be a prince, and we will raise him here at Kul-Oba under the shadow of the Black Ziggurat and in the vision of the capstone! I have foreseen that if this child is turned to the power of the Dark Side, we can rule the world and Ragnarok will come as we wish it and not as the Sons of Light wish!” Hister’s eyes blazed red with glowing Jotnar’s fire and his voice raised high into a climactic crescendo of his ranting tirade. “After Ragnarok, the god Loki will triumph! The Angels Thor, Wotan, Gabriel, Michael and Brigid, Freya and the Valkyries and all the hosts of Asgard will be cast asunder and we shall rule the new world for all eternity!” His cackling laughter echoed down the dark lantern-lit halls of doom.

  Heike showed no emotion, but as she felt the child within her kick, she knew that the baby’s father was a complete and utter madman! She would bide her time until a way was found to rid Midgard of this maniacal tyrant! She must gain access to his magical scrolls at some point, like the Scroll of Azetbur.

  Chapter XIV

  Galorfilinde

  From the Skald’s tale:

  Now in the month of Haust-manour, we know the seasons slowly begin to change. The Kings of yore knew that this campaign must end before winter. It was, so very long ago in that bygone epoch, that Korgan-Tal and his main force advanced against the Rebel Alliance and the two forces clashed on the prairie forty-five miles west of the River Tanais! Oh, ye my listeners, do not despair for, King Togrobeg’s forces had rejoined the main Army, which allowed troops of Gepids under King Osrik to move against the Sarmatians and Ogres who had crossed the Tanais and were moving hard for Thorstadt! That ancient fortress of our fathers was well defended and there were plenty of troops at the capital to sally forth and meet the Ogre-Sarmatian Army, and thus it would be caught between the Queen’s Army and that of King Osrik. The Queen of legend was well along with child and would be in no condition to lead the attack herself. Thus, sole command would fall to Lord Randver, the Gepid Ealdorman and General. So take heart, King Roderick of the Visigothic Nation, that when days come, in which we must fight advancing turban-headed hordes, screaming in the name of their evil moon god, we shall be victorious; so help us, by the hammer of Thor we shall triumph! But for now, let me tell you of a great Elf, who came amongst our ancestors. Now there was a Sheild Maiden indeed!

  M essages arrived via carrier pigeon to the Queen and Lord Randver in the Mead Hall written in Gomerian Runic script, bearing ill tidings concerning the approach of the Ogre-Sarmatian Army.

  “Make ready your defences in all due haste! Gorkan-Mar and the Ogres of Morag approach!”

  One message, written in runes, was personal for the Queen.

  My Heart,

  Prepare for heavy attack. Take all precautions you deem wise, My Heart. Do not wield sword in battle unless the city is taken. Let Randver command the resistance. Osrik is moving behind Gorkan-Mar and we can catch him between your Army and his and destroy him. Our Child must be born. Know that I am forever yours and no other can take me from your arms, oh thou beloved of my Soul.

  You have all my love. From your Hunter, Sigurd.

  The Queen was relieved to hear from her beloved hunter, but she was quite angry about this whole state of affairs. The people should be harvesting the crops right now and making ready for winter. Instead, they must fight to survive against power-hungry tyrants! Why? This land was vast and there was room for all the beings of Midgard to have a large share! Well, since the fight had been thrust upon them, then the Slaughter-Wolves would get what they wanted: total war!

  “I will take out my dagger and make of Hister a eunuch!” she had declared to her sister Greta after reading Sigurd’s letter. Sigmund was young and just didn’t understand what she meant by that and she wasn’t ready to tell him.

  The Queen sent Sigmund to Randver in order to convene her council of war. At that moment her thoughts went all the way back to her childhood, when she had been befriended by a beautiful woman of the Elvish Nation. At age seven, she had been alone in the forests, in deep thought and contemplation. She wore her leather boots and brown dress and her locks of dark, red-raven hair tumbled in waves and curls over her small shoulders. She enjoyed life and especially the company of the young Prince Sigurd. She loved the hunt and all the things that her dear father was teaching her and her twin brother Gedron about being a warrior. All Getic girls train in combat, but she really did not understand why her father was so intent that she be trained as a Shield Maiden. He had been hard on her lately. And all of this on top of learning runic letters and numbers. At this point in her life, young Gwynnalyn had no idea that she would marry Prince Sigurd and become the Queen of her people, but that was soon to change, quicker than she anticipated.

  She sat down on the ground in a beautiful meadow covered with thick grass and the most beautiful wildflowers that she had ever seen. The
next thing she knew she was waking up, having fallen asleep. Or was she really awake? It all seemed so strange; a dream yet not a dream. She sat straight up and saw a beautiful woman walking towards her across the meadow. The woman wore a green dress with a maroon scarf wrapped about her shoulders. She was much taller than Gwynnalyn herself and was thin, with hazel-green eyes. The woman’s hair was long and thick and white-blonde. Gwynnalyn’s normal reaction to a sudden strange visitor would have been to draw weapons and either fight or flee. But she did not do it this time. This woman was so beautifully mysterious. The woman had thick full lips and was not menacing at all. In fact, there was an air of tranquillity about her.

  The woman stopped a few feet in front of Gwynnalyn and said, “Greetings, Eowythane.”

  The woman smoothed her hair back over her left ear and Gwynnalyn saw that it was slightly taller than a normal human ear and was pointed on the top, for she was an Elf! Young Gwynnalyn immediately recognised her now and a large smile crossed her face as she said, “Oh, it is you! Lady Galorfilinde. I have not seen you since I was four! And I used to see you when I was even younger all the time.” She reached out and hugged Galorfilinde, who smiled and returned the affection generously. “Lady Galorfilinde. Why? Why did you stay away for so long?”

  The two of them sat down on the ground facing each other, cross-legged, and Gwynnalyn spoke. “You always came to me. No-one believes in you, but I do. They say you’re my imaginary friend. Then when you didn’t return, I truly began to believe that you were nothing more than a daydream. But now I know! Yes, now I know that you are real; as real as anything.”

  Galorfilinde replied in a voice of compassion, saying, “Time is only as real as you make it, Eowythane. It was for me, but yesterday when my Father King Yoshael came to me, bidding me to watch over you as your Norn. Fear not, Eowythane, for all Asgard smiles upon you. Yet know that the Dark Powers will seek to destroy you and the child you will some day bear. Listen to your father, for his love for you is great. Be the Shield Maiden that you were meant to be, and when you most need me, I will be there for you, dear Eowythane, just as my brother Shlomael is and will be here for your twin brother Kalevalin. I will tell you of others whom, when the time is set, you must bring to help the people. In the land of Brython among a people called the Cymbri, there dwells Dithranti, White Wizard of the West. He is a good, good man and dear to all of us in Karelia, the Shining Land of the Elves. As well, is the White Wizard of the East, Byock at Yerpa. He is beloved of all who know him. When, by the way the Scop reckons time on the Runestave, when the world is in its greatest peril, you must bring them both to your Kingdom, for you shall wear the Crown of the Getic Queen, and Prince Sigurd shall you wed. Even now in his boyish heart he has sealed himself to you, and you alone, Eowythane. In fact, all of the great Wizards are called the Sons of Light and they will gather around you, Eowythane. The power of the Circle of the Spirit Maidens will overshadow thee, oh Eowythane of Wodenburg.”

  Gwynnalyn’s mind did not reject this, but she asked, “Do I have a choice? Am I free to walk another road, Galorfilinde?”

  “Yes, you may, but remember this, don’t suppose that merely because you will be in the Royal Longhouse you will escape the peril any more than the other Getic. For if you fail to speak up now, relief and deliverance will come to the Gomerians from a different direction; but you and your father’s family will perish. Who knows whether you will come into your royal position precisely for such a time as that which is to come?”

  Young Gwynnalyn had on her face a look of destiny as she replied, “As long as I have the freedom to choose, I choose the path of life for my people. I will save my Pappa Volsung. Even though I want to clop Gedry’s thick head sometimes, I will save him as well. Marry Sigurd? Yes, but not now, because he needs to grow up and so do I.”

  Galorfilinde replied, “You and he will know when the time has come. Thor has appeared to your father and spoken of this to him, but has made clear that both the Crown Prince and you are given freedom to choose if you will marry one another or not.”

  The child Gwynnalyn awoke from her dreamscape and sat straight up. “No, Galorfilinde, don’t go.” The girl knew that she had been taken into a different realm somehow, although she had no understanding of how it had happened. She only knew that her beloved Norn, Galorfilinde had really been there and that this was no dream.

  She jumped up and ran over to her sleeping brother, and rolled him off onto the floor. He hit with a thud and angrily demanded, “Hey! What’s the big idea? Why’d you do that?”

  She replied in a loud whisper, “Because it was the only way you’d wake up, Gedry! Now this is serious. Do you have an Elf that you see and that no-one else can see?”

  Gedry sat up and hesitated before he replied. “Well, Gwynn, I don’t believe in Norns. Now let me alone so I can go back to sleep!”

  She got a stern look on her face and grabbed him by the pajama shirt with both of her hands, yanking him up close to her face, and in her angry whisper said, “Listen, you! You have been seeing Elves just like I have! How else would you know what a Norn is? You tell me the truth right now, Gedry Volsung, or I’ll thump you one big punch!” She shook him till his teeth rattled and he was totally intimidated and defeated. They may have been the same age, being paternal twins, but she had grown a lot faster than he had and he was scrawny compared to her.

  “Yes, Gwynn, yes; ever since we were four this Elf named Shlomy visits. But he’s a good Elf and protects me! Now let go of me!”

  She released her brother and asked, “Did he give you an Elf name? I know he did; now, what is it? Tell me and I will tell you mine.”

  The boy replied, “He calls me Kalevalin.”

  “Good! I have a Norn too and it is his sister Galorfilinde. My Elf name is Eowythane. Here is what she told me.”

  Gwynn and Gedry sat cross-legged on the floor in the pale moonlight which flooded through their open window and she told him everything that Galorfilinde had said, and when she was finished, she grabbed him by the shirt once more and said, “And if you say one single itty-bitty word to anyone about this, especially to Sigurd, I’ll break your face, Gedry!”

  He softly grabbed her wrists and said, “It’s OK, Gwynn. You can trust me. We’re twins; and besides, this is just so wild that no-one would believe me anyway.”

  She let go of him and, with a big smile, the twins gave each other bearhugs.

  The Queen’s mind came back to the present. She knew of the swathe of destruction left in the wake of the Slaughter-Wolves which had caused a dark, shadowy spirit of woe to descend upon all the peoples of the great steppes. All too well she knew that Korgan-Tal and Gorkan-Mar, as well as Dragos the Green, marched relentlessly eastward. She had heard grim reports of destroyed Mead Halls, burning villages and prairies, the smoke of which rose as evil clouds into the clear blue sky of the great steppes. Queen Gwynnalyn knew well that far away, westward in Dakkia, Hister’s Gutthiuda Thralls worked in the quarries cutting and hauling black stone for some dastardly reason she did not understand.

  “Come, Greta, let’s go to the War Council,” she said, as she and her sister left the private dining hall.

  Lord Randver and Queen Gwynnalyn and her War Council met in the war room and the missive from King Sigurd was discussed. “Lord Randver, can you intercept this evil horde before it falls upon us?”

  “Yes, my Queen. We have Cavalrymen enough as well as lancers. The Gepid crossbowmen and Getic Pole Axemen are making ready. In defence of Your Majesty and the city are the combined swordsmen and longbowmen of the Thyssagetae and Massagetae who survived the massacre as well as the Dwarf Infantry left here by King Togrobeg. I am happy to report, as well, that the walls have been successfully extended around the Dwarf Quarter. We have in all ten thousand troops and this is counting the two batteries of trebuchets and three ballista crews.”

  The Queen was very uncomfortable and sore any way she chose to sit due to the child of wonder growing within her. She shifted
on her chair from left to right. Looking on were Sigmund and Greta, on whose shoulders sat little Lilia. At that moment, Captain Gauron, Captain of the Royal Thane Krone Wachen, with four warriors guarding the doors, allowed the Dwarf Princess, Eileza, to pass through. She was quite taken with Sigmund and walked to his side with burning butterflies bouncing in her tummy at the very sight of Sigmund. The young Lord was experiencing the same thing as looked at her and she smiled.

  The Queen noticed this and smiled. She shifted on her chair once more and, leaning forward with her elbows on the table, asked, “Lord Randver, has there been any word from either Horsa or Raedwald on the status of their Quests?”

  “None, my Queen,” replied the Gepid General, who then said, “My Lady, we hope for them to come soon. Those wizards are needed, but we must fight and act as if they are not going to come. We have prayed for the best, My Queen, but are prepared for the worst. In light of that, all the women and children, as well as the old who can, have been put to fashioning arrows and sharpening swords and quarrying stones and shaping them for our catapaults and trebbuchets. They have prepared bolts for the ballistas and fire-pots for the trebuchets as well.”

  She nodded and replied, “Lord Randver, this is very good. I want you to leave a sizeable defence force for our homes and families. She drew the Gwynnian Scythe and held it high over her head. It began to glow with a blue halo. None here had ever seen such a sight, but all knew that this was the weapon endowed with power from Asgard to defend the innocent. And in this city were the innocent children, both born and unborn, who must be defended against those who thought it tame to murder them!

 

‹ Prev